My Sacrifice
by CourtyPie
Summary: Vernon Milton Boyd the Fifth is kidnapped in Beacon Hills and taken out of town by hunters. His pack, and especially his mate Mikael, frantically look for him but have no success. Six months later, they eventually find him. But the problem is, have they found him in time? And if they have, will he be the same Boyd?


Title: My Sacrifice

Rating: T

Author: CourtyPie

Main character pairings: Boyd/OMC, Stiles/Derek.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, so no sueing.

Summary: Vernon Milton Boyd the Fifth is kidnapped in Beacon Hills and taken out of town by hunters. His pack, and especially his mate Mikael, frantically look for him but have no success. Six months later, they eventually find him. But the problem is, have they found him in time? And if they have, will he be the same Boyd?

Warnings: There's male/male and female/female pairings as well as male/female pairings. There will be strong mentions of torture and painful scenarios as well; not necessarily gore, but some subject matters are dark enough to warrant the rating T. Lots of angst, crude language, non-con, eventual fluff.

Author's Note: Right now I've been kind of obsessed with writing Boyd-centric stories, he's my favourite character on Teen Wolf and I believe he needs a lot more attention than what he's given. If you want to know a little about Mikael, go check out my other story: Might Not Be Heaven, But It's Damn Close. It's rated M for a small smut scene at the end, so you've been warned. Also, because I like giving readers physical images to represent my original characters; Dougie Poynter as Mikael, Leebo Freeman as Darcy, Bradley James as Kane and Josh Devine as Raven.

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Glancing out of the tinted window, he watches the familiar streets roll on by. Calling out for help would be ideal in a situation like this, but then again it's not entirely one of those typical kidnapping scenarios. Boyd clenches his jaw bitterly as he turns away from the sight of a slowly disappearing Beacon Hills, the car rolling smoothly as he glares across at the young hunter keeping vigilant in the seat beside him behind two other hunters. They don't seem like they're any older than maybe, say early twenties, and that is a shame in itself, because Boyd knows once his pack finds them (and they will, he's got no doubt about that) mercy won't be granted. Their lives will be cut short, brutally, especially if Derek has anything to say about this.

"What's the matter, baby? Missin' your pack of mutts already?" The blonde hunter taunts with a sickening grin on his face, and Vernon knows better than to react by now, Derek had taught them all that no good would come of reacting to basic shit like insults. So he simply turns his head away, even as his skin crawls when the hunter's hand begins creeping up his jean clad thigh. Darcy is the guy's name, Boyd remembers vaguely, just as the blonde's fingers graze the outline of his crotch and before the dark skinned teenager knows it, he's up in the hunter's face snarling.

Beta features presenting themselves and all.

But 'Darcy' isn't even remotely phased, nor are the other hunters, as he merely presses a gun into the pits of Boyd's stomach and smirks wickedly. "Watch it, wolf boy, we know all about your little pack and mate. If you don't play ball, we'll have to play ball with Mikael instead," it's nothing short of a whisper, but Vernon hears it clearly thanks to his enhanced hearing and he slumps backwards into his original position.

That gun is filled with wolfsbane bullets, he can practically smell them, and it makes his stomach knot up uncomfortably.

He wants to so badly rip Darcy's throat out for even daring to threaten his mate, but the other two hunters would be on him faster than he could blink and then go after his pack. Boyd has already decided he will not be responsible for that, he will not put his life above his pack's. And jeopardizing Mikael's life... the thought is pretty much a no go zone.

"There's a good boy," comes the cooing voice, and he finds himself extremely repulsed by it, "play by our rules and no one gets hurt, not even you." Boyd can tell it's a lie by the way Darcy's heart skips a beat, but he's suddenly distracted by the tip of the gun that is now tracing his groin instead of fingers. He barely represses a shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he tries not to think of the horrors that yet await him. He hopes Derek and the pack finds him sooner rather than later.

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It's been two weeks since everyone last heard from Boyd. Everyone is of course fraught with worry, but Mikael is suffering more than any of them because his mate has gone missing without a word or clue as to where he might be, so Derek makes a silent promise to himself to keep an eye on the tattooed werewolf. He can't deny that he himself is losing sleep at night because of his worry for Boyd, and he knows for a fact that Stiles isn't sleeping well either. So the two of them tend to stay up those sleepless nights, theorizing on where their Beta might be and if he's okay, if he's ever coming back. A train of thought Derek is sure to put a stop to.

"Don't think like that, Stiles, we'll find him." His voice is gruff and maybe border lining harsh, but his mate knows how to read him like an open book by now and so doesn't take offense to his tone. There's dark bags under Stiles' normally alert eyes, and needless to say Derek hates that the younger male isn't getting the rest he should be. He can't convince him to get any sleep, though, when he can't exactly doze off so easily now anymore either.

Stiles turns his head tiredly towards Derek, and lets loose a deep sigh that pains the Alpha's heart. "I know we will, Der... I'm just worried about the pack, that's all. Especially Mikael; did you know he nearly killed a hunter the other night? A hunter who follows the Code?" They aren't entirely too sure and they don't have any proof, but both Derek and Stiles share a main theory that whatever has happened to Boyd, most likely involves hunters. Sure, that might be what one would call discrimination, but after their several run ins with hunters even when the pack has never done anything wrong... well, safe to say every time trouble occurs the pack often thinks of hunters being the cause first. This situation is no different, and Derek doesn't feel guilty for thinking that way.

"When a werewolf is separated from their mate without explanation, they tend to go a little... haywire. The best thing to do at this point, Stiles, is just keep an eye on Mikael. I'll make sure he stays out of trouble and doesn't hurt anyone, but short of finding Boyd, there isn't anything else I can do." It really hurts him admitting that out loud, not just to himself but to his mate, and he turns away with a clench of his jaw.

Derek feels helpless, uncertain as he watches his pack worry and fear for the life of their packmate; he feels like a downright shitty Alpha.

Within moments lanky arms are snaking their way around his waist, Stiles burying his face into the tense curve of Derek's back. "Sourwolf, stop blaming yourself, this isn't your fault. You can't protect everyone all the time, okay? You do your best, we all know that, but things happen that we can't control. We'll find Boyd."

It's Stiles doing the reassuring and comforting now, but for once the Alpha doesn't mind. He leans back into the security of his mate's arms, even though he is much bigger than the teenager, eyes slipping shut. Derek, after coming so close to losing Boyd and Erica when the Alpha pack had them, is terrified for the life of his Beta.

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A month onwards (at least that's his estimate of the time passed, he's not sure anymore), and Boyd is all alone in the comforting darkness of his room that resembles a prison more than it does an actual bedroom. He's come to learn that the lights bring nothing but torment and pain for him, so he embraces the dark as often as he can.

The smell of dried blood and wolfsbane lingers in the walls of the room; he's losing weight dramatically, not from the lack of eating, but because of the numerous torture sessions he's put through. Boyd can't remember a night when he's actually properly slept, either; he manages to catch at least two hours of shut eye every day before he's either rudely woken up, or because of the nightmares he's now frequently experiencing. There's also another faint scent that he can just barely catch a hint of, but it's so repulsive that he nearly throws up just thinking about it. The young hunters... they remind him of Gerard Argent, and yet they don't because while the old man may have tortured him and Erica, Gerard at least never touched either of them sexually.

The door opens suddenly, the lights flicking on, and Boyd finds himself squeezing his eyes shut at the blinding light. A dark chuckle reaches his ears, but he doesn't bother opening his eyes because he knows who it is by now, having gotten unwillingly familiar with all of the hunters' scents.

Kane is a tall man; blonde much like Darcy, but the colour of blue eyes resembling ice itself, with hands calloused and rough. The werewolf shrinks back as he feels a cold hand sliding down his bare chest, which is covered in crimson blood and barely healing wounds.

"Ready for another round, mutt?" The British accent rips a slight whimper from Boyd's throat, as his makeshift shorts are torn off and his lower body is exposed to the monster's hungry eyes. For that is what these hunters are essentially; human beings don't commit such unspeakable acts to others.

As the violation occurs, he's unable to fight back just like every other time this happens; the wolfsbane in his system prevents Boyd from wolfing out and just mauling his kidnappers, it instead renders him weak and vulnerable. A guttural moan from above him indicates that Kane's finished, though Vernon feels nothing but emptiness as the hunter shoves the darker skinned boy away and buckles up his belt. "I bet you liked that, didn't you, you little slut?" Kane laughs, before delivering a swift kick to Boyd's face and leaving the room, locking the door behind him.

For the first time since his arrival, the Beta finds tears finally sliding down his bruised face; he isn't too sure how much more he can take, despite being a werewolf. He might heal physically, but his pain runs far deeper than any type of wolfsbane could ever hope to reach. As he starts to doze off into an uneasy sleep, he wonders if the pack will ever find him. Or if they even care enough to look in the first place.

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Three and a half months into the search for Boyd, and they've finally discovered what has happened to their missing packmate. Not his location, mind you, but why Boyd hasn't been seen or heard from in such a long time. The discovery infuriates the werewolves, while it leaves the human members reeling with pure fear for the life of Boyd. Chris Argent is called to the Hale house.

He walks in fully armed, only to find the pack; a bunch of teenage kids, he reminds himself, all curled up in the middle of the living room. Dog pile, he thinks, something he's read on before but never actually saw in action, until now.

"Argent," comes a voice from the shadows, and Chris whirls around to find himself face to face with none other than Derek Hale. He's quick to hide his startled body language, however, as he gazes upon a face that currently has red eyes. "You called me here for a reason, Derek, so out with it." He says calmly, knowing better than to finger the wolfsbane-laced pistol hidden in the waistband of his jeans. Chris has no doubt that the Alpha standing before him can smell the bullets, he would be stupid to pretend otherwise. As much as he dislikes the boy, Derek is a good Alpha. Better than some he's come across in his years of hunting, anyway.

"One of my packmates has been missing for over three months. I want you to tell me if you recognise this handwriting," Derek shoves a piece of paper in his direction, and Argent eyes him warily before taking the note. He smooths the crinkles out, before his own eyes widen as yes, he does recognise the handwriting. Before he can make anything of the words, however, Hale is snatching the note back and tucking it under his crossed arms. "Who wrote the note? Tell me everything you know about this person." The Alpha demands, but Chris is stepping back and positioning his hand reassuringly near the hidden gun, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why should I do that, Derek? What has this got to do with your missing werewolf?"

Wrong answer. Before he knows it, Chris is being slammed up against a wall, the pack now wide awake and watching him closely. Allison included.

Derek's face has given way to his wolfish features as he snarls into the hunter's face, spittle going everywhere. "Boyd is innocent! Whatever has happened, he deserves absolutely fucking none of it! I swear to God, Argent, if you don't tell me who wrote that goddamn note, you'll never see your daughter again!" It's not a threat, Chris realises, as Allison stands stubbornly next to Scott and nods her head in agreement to Derek's words. She's a part of the pack, has been for some time now.

Chris grunts at the hands gripping his throat, emitting a hard sigh when the grip softens slightly. "That handwriting belongs to a hunting group known as the Lycan Monsters," he begins, noting how a particular tattooed male is listening to his every word, staring at him intently, "and they don't follow the Code, at all. Every werewolf they come across, they torture for weeks, sometimes months at a time. When they find new werewolves to play with, they kill their current prisoner. The group consists of three males; Kane Gordon, Raven Brody and Darcy Ignatius. Like their fathers before them, they're quite insane, and hopelessly sick individuals. I was hoping I'd never have to deal with them in my lifetime." By the time he's finished, the tattooed male has fully wolfed out in rage and disappeared from the house with the other werewolves bar Derek following him.

The Alpha releases his throat, scrubbing a hand over his weary face. "Where do I find them?" It's less of a demand this time, but more of an actual question as he gazes at the hunter, and for the first time Chris sees real worry on the younger man's face. It makes his own heart clench a little.

"You mean, we. I have a few ideas, but we'll need to narrow them down. Lycan Monsters tend to stay together and never let anyone know their current location. If you want to save Boyd, you're gonna need my help, Derek."

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Boyd has given up on the idea that his pack will ever find him. He's not sure anymore how long it's been since he was kidnapped, but he's tired of hoping for the only thing that keeps him going. He lays there slumped in the darkness of the blood stained room, the pitch black no longer giving him comfort as it once did.

The door opens, and the werewolf doesn't flinch at the sound like he used to, instead resigning himself to whatever cruel torture is in store for him. Boyd jerks sharply, however, when he finds his wounds being cleaned and tended to; for one beautifully delusional moment he thinks he sees Mikael, but reality kicks him in the ass and the face becomes clearer; Raven, the youngest of the hunters.

He wants to know why in the hell the hunter is bothering to clean him up when they'll only spill more of his blood later, when suddenly Boyd recognises the look on Raven's face; pity and regret are the main emotions in the other male's expression, and it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. "Don't need your help, murderer," he manages weakly, even going so far as to push his helping hands away, but Raven merely shakes his head at him.

"Look, you're just making things worse for your body, let me clean you up." Those are the only even remotely kind words that have been said to Boyd since his arrival, and he slumps back into his original position.

Raven continues cleaning up the fragile body of a broken boy, his own brows furrowing as he sees the damage his fellow hunters have done. He himself has never taken part in Boyd's torture or rape, preferring instead to leave well enough alone while he stocks their current hideout with food and keeps their trail hidden.

But this... this is worse than anything they've ever done to any werewolf. And it sickens him to the very core of his being. By the time Raven is done wiping the blood away with a white cloth, it's stained to the point that the white background can no longer be seen.

In all honesty he's surprised Boyd's pack hasn't found them yet. It's only a matter of time, Raven thinks, that is if they care at all.

Ninety percent of the time, the werewolves they've kidnapped over the years have never been found, and that's mostly due to the fact their packs didn't make the effort to find their missing pack member. At one stage, Kane had told Raven to make their trail obvious to see if anyone would come looking for the female Beta they'd gotten their hands on, and needless to say no one did. She was killed pretty quickly when they came to that conclusion.

So he wonders if it will end the same for this young dark skinned werewolf, who is at the moment utterly alone and void of any hope, or will it be different for once this time around? Raven takes one last glance at Boyd, who has passed out into a restless doze, before silently standing and leaving the room in which they've kept him for so long. He pauses briefly, before deciding to leave the door unlocked.

The hunter knows he will never be a good person himself; he's willingly committed too much evil of different kinds in life to be considered redeemable, but if one good deed will help him sleep at night then so be it. Besides, it's not like Boyd is strong enough to attempt an escape.

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The pack finds Vernon Boyd six months after he originally went missing, collapsed not too far away from a seemingly abandoned house in the middle of a forest, miles and miles away from Beacon Hills. From the looks of him, he's not faring too good, and even Chris has to turn his head away from the sight of the mutilated werewolf, who is still breathing. But barely.

Mikael rushes to his mate's side immediately, too panicked to even consider the raging wolf inside, and his sensitive nose is hit with scents that tell him unwanted stories of Boyd's horrible suffering. He shifts the younger boy's head onto his lap, smoothing his fingers gently down crimson stained cheeks, before pressing them firmly against a faintly beating pulse in the neck. A heavy sigh of relief escapes Mikael, but he knows Boyd needs to be taken to Deaton, straight away. Otherwise his mate isn't going to survive his severe injuries.

"He's still alive, but he needs medical attention; he can't heal by himself, there's too much wolfsbane in his system," his voice is shaky, but damn if he gives a fuck right now, and when three men emerge from the abandoned house it takes all of Mikael's self control not to wolf out right there, desert Boyd, and viciously fucking _tear apart_ those bastards who dared to goddamn damage his mate so badly.

Derek, Isaac and Erica are thinking the same thoughts as well, Mikael can tell by the way they've nearly lost control of their wolves, but their respective mates aren't doing a thing to stop them and Mikael's grateful for that. With the help of Danny and Cora, he lifts Boyd's limp body and carries him to the van that had gotten them there in time, and he feels sick to his stomach as he unwillingly pictures what those hunters have done to Vernon.

Instead of exacting revenge, like he'd originally intended to do, Mikael chooses to sit in the van with Boyd in order to keep an eye on his breathing. His keen hearing, however, picks up on vicious snarling outside of the van, the sound of numerous gunshots, and then the smell of thick copper hits his nostrils, unexpectedly.

Going by the yells and screams and begging filling the air, Mikael knows his Alpha and his packmates are making the hunters' demises painful and slow, just like he'd always fantasized the moment he had learned of Boyd's disappearance. Best of all, Chris isn't lifting a hand to help the so called Lycan Monsters. It's rather a satisfying notion for his wolf, which has been restless and angry for an entire six months because of the absence of Boyd's presence.

He looks down at his unconscious mate, his hands shaky as he strokes his fingers down a dark skinned cheek once more, hoping to dear God and beyond that they aren't too late.

The van's back doors open, and Mikael is thrilled to see Derek holding three hunter heads by their hair, dripping blood everywhere and a terrified expression on each of the faces. He knows he shouldn't take such sick pleasure in the fact his Alpha had literally clawed their heads from their bodies, but Mikael fully approves of it and he manages a small smile to the now human Derek, who tosses the heads into a nearby empty sack.

"He's gonna be okay, Mik. I promise," Derek nods, sounding more confident than he feels, but Mikael appreciates the sentiment and nods back. The van leaves the abandoned house not long after, three headless bodies burning in the distance. Raven Brody, Kane Gordon and Darcy Ignatius are no more. And Mikael isn't sorry or remorseful, not at all.

Now to focus on getting Boyd to Deaton as soon as possible, before his mate decides fighting is no longer good enough. Damn wolfsbane.

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Boyd wakes up with a scream, his face sweating heavily as his eyes stare into the darkness ahead of him, fists clenching the sheets a little too tight.

A body moves beside him, and he tries not to flinch away, not succeeding when Mikael lets loose a soft sigh. He jumps at every sound made, not sure if he's merely dreaming or if he's actually safe, but when warm gentle arms wrap around him his body untenses and Boyd realises he's had another nightmare for the fifth night in a row.

"You're safe, babe, you're okay. I'll never let anyone touch you again, I promise you that. I'm here, I'm here." Mikael whispers quietly into his ear, careful to make sure his grip doesn't tighten unconsciously. The first time he did that here in their bed, Boyd couldn't get away from him fast enough. And while that may have hurt him a little bit, the logical side to him told Mikael that his mate is psychologically scarred from the experience with the hunters, that these reactions were not because of him.

The pack has been helping too. They do everything in their power to keep Boyd distracted and out of his memories, and little by little he's slowly beginning to welcome dog piles again, and random touches from his packmates. Derek and Stiles are also most attentive, particularly towards any group of hunters who arrive to town. Boyd has been through enough, they're not even sure that he'll ever be the same again. But one thing is certain; they're never letting another soul touch Boyd in the wrong way again.

Boyd turns his head, and tentatively kisses Mikael, who is surprised by the action but softly kisses back. Surprised because he knows, or rather has a horribly burning suspicion, that the hunters forced themselves on his mate, and therefore assuming that Vernon would avoid all kinds of intimate contact, even as simple as a kiss. Hence why he hasn't tried to initiate anything, even in the safety of their bedroom.

You see, Boyd hasn't told any of them the details of what went on in that house, not even Mikael.

The pack knows he was tortured, his weakened body gave that away when they reached Deaton's, he had basically been on the verge of death. But that was all Deaton could really tell them, he was keeping silent on anything else, which angered Mikael greatly. However, he could see where the vet was coming from. Boyd's business is his own, no matter how troubling or psychologically scarring it was.

All Mikael can really do, is be there for his mate, and protect him from his own memories. Help him heal bit by bit, and learn not to fear the world again.

Easier said than done.


End file.
